


Him

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Drabble, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-01
Updated: 2003-01-01
Packaged: 2020-06-28 17:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19817047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: Our favorite captain is lost in thought...





	Him

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).

I can't do this anymore. I'm sick of it. I'm making myself sick over it. Every thought I have now revolves around _him_.  
  
Damn him.  
  
We're friends, of course. Best friends, most would say. Only friends. That's the problem--Platonica is such a lonely country.  
  
Ironically, he's always there, whether I admit to liking it or not. We can share anything, and not just because of our omnipresent link. Privacy is maintained, of course, but when it matters...when it matters we both know. He's inescapable. He's my everything, my reason, my first mate...and yet not my mate, not how I would have him.  
  
Damn him.  
  
I watch him. Whenever I am near him, I watch him. And why not? He's easily the most beautiful thing I've encountered in this universe. I scan his face, his features, unable to decide what it is that makes him so exquisite. Is it his hair? That raven cap, jet sleek, waiting to be feathered by doting fingers... Perhaps it is his ears, delicately curved, definitively pointed, and looking as though they belong to some fantastical, figmented creature from the stories of so long ago. Still then, there is his nose, rife with aquiline grace. Despite all of my ponderings, I always favor his eyes. It is said that the eyes are the windows to one's soul, and they are. They are, and when I look through them, I see _him._ Beyond that stoic Vulcan exterior, the front that he presents to everyone else, I see him, looking back at me. My Spock.  
  
Damn him.  
  
It wouldn't be so hard if we didn't have all that we do. Our past, our shared experiences...all of it weighs down on me so heavily that sometimes I feel I cannot breathe. But then, then I am with him, and he lifts me. He lifts me so high that I feel as though I could fly without the aid of the ship, sailing past the stars and their galaxies, borne forth on the wind of our love...and then, suddenly, there's the plummeting. It all falls, and I fall, too, because it comes crashing down once again with the realization of all that we do not have.  
  
Damn hi--  
  
"Captain? Would you care to join me for a game of chess?"  
  
And there he stands, looking to me as he always does. I attempt to affect my token grin, only to find that I am already smiling.  
  
"Nothing...would please me more, Mister Spock."  
  
And so he leads, and I follow, as I always will. 


End file.
